


a blade of honey

by trusteachother



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Infidelity, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 15:54:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trusteachother/pseuds/trusteachother
Summary: ‘’I was with Val,’’ he presented as an explanation, ‘’If I’d talked to you, I’d be single now.’’





	a blade of honey

**Author's Note:**

> this story takes place in a similar space-time as the book Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel García Márquez but has nothing to do with the actual story so you're safe from spoilers if you haven't read it yet (I strongly recommend you do so!!!!). As always, I apologize for any mistakes since English is not my first language.

* * *

 

 

 

 

If he were more cunning he would laugh at his own stupidity and if he were braver he would walk over the table and a simple wink would be enough. But Harry had his claws on Sansa’s red-velvet-covered-hip and his mouth over her ear seemed anything but innocent.

 

 

He heard her mellow laugh through the tango and the yelling and insulting of his friends, the same laugh that would escape her lips when he touched her just below her right thigh. Val tugged at his arm and onto the pseudo-dancefloor that wasn’t more than a tiny spot amidst the tables. That stolen friction that could easily be excused for practiced steps was their only form of intimacy, albeit a few chaste kisses, before their wedding day which was set to take place only a few months from then. He forced a smile between chords while a future conversation with Sansa waltzed through his memory like it had already happened.

 

 

He was an idiot and a hypocrite. He had been engaged to Val since he was thirteen because his father worked with her’s at the farmhouse he would inherit and his mother had tea at their summer house. Val’s secret kisses had been given there, in a hurry, a giggle and then back to where Bryan Frey fed the pigs.

 

 

Theon laughed at his face when he read his disturbance between the lines. _You can’t feel for an_ honour _that is not yours._

 

 

Jon didn’t care for honour or chastity. He knew so many virgins always waiting for the chance to mock and hurt. They didn’t practice what they preached.

 

 

Sansa argued that she was free in her chains and knew no pleasure but the carnal.

 

 

When the band took a break, he went for a smoke outside. He saw her leaving by herself through the moonlit grove. He didn’t hesitate for a second. When Val asked, he’d say the wine had gone to his head.

 

 

Sansa stopped in her tracks when she heard his voice and Jon could no longer see her until she was in front of him.

 

 

He could barely make sense of her words, but the request was crystal-clear when her hand went to his hair and the oak-tree to their left proved to be the best support for their heaving bodies.

 

 

Jon felt the ocean on his tongue when he licked her neck and held her as close as he could. Sansa trembled under the summer cold that the river’s proximity brought about.

 

 

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked sometime later, still lying on the cortex of the old tree with his manhood inside of her.

 

 

She nodded and stepped back, leaving him bare to be seen if someone were to be spying on them. She smiled at the feel of their coupling running down her legs. Sansa wiped at her cheeks and tried to pretend like it was just sweat due to the effort. His fists flexed involuntarily.

 

 

‘’Say the word and I’ll kill him,’’ he spat while re-arranging his clothes.

 

 

Sansa laughed and before he could ask or draw any conclusions, she was leading him through the path to her home.

 

 

The night’s events were in disarray when he woke up, but the room was warm and the company wasn’t bad. He closed his eyes.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

‘’I saw you today,’’ said Sansa, with her lips pressed against Jon’s chest, ‘’At the market. I know you saw me too.’’

 

 

His soft chuckle made her head move in sync with his chest, only to fall brusquely when his diaphragm relaxed.

 

 

‘’I was with _Val_ ,’’ he presented as an explanation, ‘’If I’d talked to you, I’d be single now.’’

 

 

The silence was almost gloomy. Then Sansa pinched his left rib. ‘’I know, you fool.’’

 

 

Her slim hand made its way through the linens and talking time was over. A moan from another room reached his ears and he closed his eyes. The colour red, so Sansa, danced in his eyelids while her tongue moistened her bottom lip.

 

 

The smell of female pleasure was mixed with that of incense and wet dirt. Sansa left nothing to the imagination, her clothes lost long before he arrived. He captured one of her nipples between his fingers in a swift motion and listened carefully to her rapid breathing. In the kitchen, one of the girls must have broken a plate.

 

 

He heard another moan but realized it came from his own mouth.

 

 

It was very late. The most lucid visitors had probably already returned to their wives and the ones still swarming around had to be the drunk or ridiculous like him.

 

 

Sansa began kissing his length with chapped-cold lips and giggled at his words of encouragement.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The town was feasting.

 

 

Rumours and exaggerations flew about like tiny birds whispering in people’s ears. There was no respect for mourning when it was all an open book anyone could read. He had heard them like one hears the news, just like that, not an ounce of shame or regret.

 

 

Missandei had been the most mysterious and quiet, even more so than Sansa, but her tricks and long legs had led to her very own private clientele and, very much like her associates, she never lacked silk nor milk.

 

 

Discovering the father’s identity of the unborn child that had taken the foreign girl’s life seemed to be the new puzzle keeping everyone from their daily activities. Jon silently prayed it was one of the many husbands he crossed paths with during his nightly wanderings.

 

 

He had cancelled his trip to the river with Val and cared little if anyone saw him walking into the infamous white and brown house in broad daylight.

 

 

Her sobbing reached him as he walked down the hall and the door with an ‘’S’’ opened with the slightest of pushes.

 

 

The girl had been buried that morning and no one but her companions had dared to attend. Not even him. Only one of Sam’s brothers had accepted the request to dig the grave for the broken women. Dany had described their crying as “heartbreaking howling”.

 

 

The town’s priest had apparently said that God was finally making them pay for their lechery and seduction. Everyone had nodded at that. Afterward, they had been laughing at the grocers.

 

 

His knife-sharpening calloused hands on her exposed back made her weeping steadily decrease until they were just mere spasms.

 

 

‘’We’re closed today,’’ her hoarse voice betrayed her mocking tone, ‘’you’re going to have to come back tomorrow.’’

 

 

‘’I’ll best stay here then.’’

 

 

She wasn’t going to ask him for favors. She never did. She wasn’t about to beg for him to hold her and kiss her and make love to her. That was for common women.

 

 

‘’The whole day?’’

 

 

‘’And night. If you don’t kick me out.’’

 

 

She shook her head violently and, carefully, untangled one of Jon’s hands were it pressed her against his chest and took it to her mouth. She kissed every fingertip, almost sucking them in but never quite. Then she released it from her grip and closed her eyes, but Jon was still trapped in the trance.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

He barely noticed the date and hour while letting people dress him up in black and white. The arms pulling him toward the chapel weren’t as soft and meek as he was accustomed to.

 

 

The yellowish dress didn’t fit the bride as much as his smiling relatives nor the off-key choir and the fat bishop that had travelled to town to pay back a favour didn't fit the grim ceremony.

 

 

Inertia pushed him to answer the questions and nod and smile. After a while, he had familiarized himself with his surroundings and his guilt. His kiss became a seal and his wife’s tears an anchor to reality.

 

 

At the back, Bryan Frey wiped his sweaty forehead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wedding feast had mutated from a hummed waltz to a singing competition to finish at a haze of alcohol and wet kisses. The elders had learned how to sleep through the bustle but the smallest ones listened closely with innocent expectancy.

 

 

By three, most of the men had succeeded in sneakily making their way to the pleasure house.

 

 

Jon believed they were still in mourning, but prices went up almost as fast as masculine lust and seeing as his guests kept on disappearing, he assumed the doors to be unlocked.

 

 

His hands itched with temptation, but his wedding night was unpostponable.

 

 

The newly-weds retired at the encouragement of the remaining couples, eyes glistening with anticipation for the honour-stained linen they were to exhibit as an inalienable prize in the morning as custom dictated.

 

 

His bed creaked at the added weight. Jon snapped out of it and remembered that this was _Val_ , that he was married and had to be gentle.

 

 

The bloodstain was merely a drop of blood and his own dried seed. His wife quickly explained that she had ridden many horses throughout his childhood and early teenage years. He acted as if he were interested.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Catching sight of her locks turning the corner made the bubble he had built around himself for those past few weeks burst and hurt his eyes.

 

 

That night he lied to Val for the countless time and his wife for the first.

 

 

The street door was half-opened and seemed bigger. One of the wooden boards squeaked on a new spot and the darkened hallway seemed more narrow and more never-ending. The ‘’S’’ at the door intimidated him and he thought he heard it whisper that _no_ , that he should turn around, go back to the safety of his own bed and not get trapped in a certain woman’s easy laughs.

 

 

For a moment, he swore he felt a fist at his jaw, but Sansa was surprisingly alone and asleep at an hour that in her occupation would be called early.

 

 

He collapsed on the bed with his boots on and kissed the birthmark located just below her right ear. Sansa smiled in her dreamy state and murmured the correct name.

 

 

‘’I thought I’d never see you again,’’ she vaguely accused, ‘’Had you forgotten about me already?’’

 

 

He shook his head. How could he do that when everything reminded him of her? Every word and movement, every book and every song. Even the things he wasn’t supposed to, he compared, and then dismissed or embraced. The cigarette he smoked that morning and the one last month. Even when he didn’t know her he was comparing and loving and hating. Not as good, not as pretty, not as smooth. Not as red as Sansa’s hair nor as kind as her eyes.

 

 

‘’Have you come to celebrate your wedding night?’’

 

 

The jape was harmless but the implication stung. Sansa bit her lip and he could see the apology in her eyes. She had made the success of her business known to him before. The sins of men weren’t discussed out loud because mouths were occupied in other matters.

 

 

He was unable to take her that night because his body was drained after savouring every inch of her skin —especially that hidden spot that made her tremble and roll her hips against his mouth to have him closer and closer — and it took him a while to get out of bed in the morning. He had accepted the fact that Sansa had branded him as much as he had branded her milky-white skin with bites and bruises.

 

 

His eyes were bothering him again and the heat of the street in contrast with the cool of the house made him dizzy and not for the first time he felt like running until his feet were damp from the river and then keep up his pace until reaching somewhere where no one knew him, where he didn’t have a ring in his finger crushing his blood vessels and upon turning around, a fire-like woman burned his eyelids.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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